


i hate you i hate you (i really love you)

by Euterpe



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-07 23:32:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7734064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euterpe/pseuds/Euterpe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aubrey Posen likes being in control.</p><p>Which is why she's more-than-slightly disgruntled when she finds herself unwittingly pinned against her bedroom door with Stacie Conrad's tongue down her throat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Aubrey Posen likes being in control. She doesn't know whether it was hammered into her from childhood by her not-so-lovable drill-sergeant father or if it was a trait she was born into screaming and kicking (well, not really; she cried once in the hospital room and that was it), but Aubrey relishes the feeling of everything bending to her will exactly as she imagines it.

Which is why she's more-than-slightly disgruntled when she finds herself unwittingly pinned against her bedroom door with Stacie Conrad's tongue down her throat.

She can explain.

There's reasoning behind this aca-awkward situation—there's always some kind of reasoning. Aubrey Posen is the kind of person who strictly believes that everything happens for a perfectly logical reason. An apple fell on Newton's head because of gravity. NSYNC broke up because they lost Justin Timberlake. Beca Mitchell is an intolerable aca-bitch because she has no sense of decency and probably grew up in a place where it's okay to use Sharpie as eyeliner.

Chloe, on the other hand, disagrees. About the Beca-Mitchell-is-a-bitch thing, but also about the everything-that-happens-is-explainable thing. Chloe tells Aubrey that sure, everything might happen for a reason, but it can't always be explained in words and phrases. Like Whitney Houston's magical voice. Or like falling in love.

Aubrey admires her friend's romanticism, but she secretly dislikes Whitney Houston. She was always more of a Celine Dion girl. Of course, she would never say that to Chloe.

Anyway.

She's never been forced to do something against her will, really. Until now.

Well, strictly speaking, Aubrey isn't kissing Stacie so much as Stacie is devouring half of Aubrey's face. Aubrey's general mouth region is hot and sticky with saliva, and although she's never been licked by a dog before (her mom's allergic), Aubrey thinks that this feeling must be pretty close.

Again, she can explain.

It's 10 o'clock on a Friday night. It's been a super stressful week, and practice has not been going the way Aubrey wants it to. At this rate, the Bellas will be lucky if they even make it to Semis. Chloe had suggested that they end practice early and cool off (because Chloe, somehow, can immediately tell whenever Aubrey needs to blow off steam). With this in mind, Aubrey had wanted to watch a movie (maybe _Mean Girls—_ they haven't seen that one in a while and it will be a  _sin_ if they don't) and eat Skinny Pop with her best friend. But a "sorry, Bree, but Tom and I already planned something" and a not-too-disappointed "of course" later, Chloe's somewhere with Tom—probably that burger joint near campus—and Aubrey's all alone in the Bella house. She wishes she didn't mind being alone, but she does. It's not that she's afraid (Aubrey Posen doesn't get afraid); it's just that, well, she's disappointed, and without Chloe at home to sing or watch TV or make some kind of Chloe noise, Aubrey feels like there's something severely wrong with the atmosphere. 

She hates not being able to fix it.

An ex-boyfriend (his name was Zach, Aubrey remembers) once told her sophomore year that she was too neurotic for her own good. That she was hard to be with because she was high-maintenance (like, Paris-Hilton-level high-maintenance), she panicked too easily, and whenever she panicked she had a tendency to puke, so. That if she kept trying to fix everything, she'd drive herself crazy.

Zach constantly smelled like a high school locker room, so Aubrey was surprised to hear that he didn't know what was actually driving her crazy.

If Aubrey is being completely honest with herself (which, aca-scuse you, she almost always is), she's a little jealous of Chloe's magnetism. That girl will attract literally everyone. Even Beca "I Hate Human Interaction" Mitchell makes heart eyes at Chloe when she thinks nobody's watching. And Chloe welcomes it, all of it. She is the queen of social butterflies, and Aubrey doesn't think Chloe's ever really been lonely in the three-ish years they've known each other.

So Aubrey's sitting alone in her room at the Bella house, totally not sulking (Aubrey Posen doesn't sulk), when someone starts banging on the front door like all hell breaks loose.

At first she thinks it's the pizza delivery boy who messed up their neighbor's address two months ago. She starts heading down the stairs when she remembers that the pizza boy had used the doorbell, whereas this person sounds like they have a personal vendetta against the front door. Aubrey begins to think that it's either a serial killer or an overeager college evangelist that she sometimes sees on campus. Aubrey paces around her room, hoping that whoever it is will just go away or that someone will complain about the noise. But it's been ten minutes and there's a strange beat to the knocking and what in the world does a marching band percussionist want with the Bellas?

Finally, Aubrey pokes her head out the window and takes a good look at the stranger through her second-story viewpoint. Through the hazy light from a distant streetlamp, Aubrey makes out a somewhat tall person erratically throwing their weight into the door. She still can't see very clearly, so she pulls out her phone and turns on the flashlight. Lo and behold: distinct curves and the shortest tank top Aubrey's ever seen.

It takes her six seconds to storm down the stairs and open the door.

"What do you think you're aca-freaking doing, Stacie?" Aubrey hisses. She tries to look intimidating, but it's hard to pull off in her pink pajamas.

Stacie, for the record, does not look sheepish  _at all._ "Sorry, cap," she hiccups, and Aubrey can smell the alcohol on her breath. "I was at a party, and this guy I hooked up with—well, trying to hook up with—took me to his dorm, but his RA found out and I just ran and I kinda sorta lost my key card so I can't go home?"

Aubrey sighs. "First of all, Stacie, you should not have been out partying when Regionals are right around the corner. Your voice is the most important thing right now, so help me God if you blow it out at a dingy frat party. Second of all, why is this my problem? Isn't there some kind of staff member willing to let you into your dorm?"

"Well," says Stacie unapologetically, "this isn't really the first time it's happened...so they'd be kinda pissed if they knew, and I really don't wanna deal with night security, and if you could please just let me crash for the night then I'll be forever grateful! Pretty please?"

They stare at each other for a few seconds. Aubrey finally brings two fingers up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Despite Aubrey's reluctance, Stacie is still a Bella, and Bellas always help other Bellas in times of need. "Fine," she says. "But take a shower first. You smell like you sat in a tub of beer for three hours."

"Yeah, it was already warm by the time I got out."

Aubrey blinks.

"Just kidding!" Stacie giggles, and Aubrey resists the urge to throw herself against a wall. It's going to be a long night.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Stacie has literally zero sense of decency.

Aubrey's seen people naked before. Chloe walks around her room topless all the time whenever she looks for a bra mistakenly thrown into the hamper. But Stacie—aca-Jesus, can't she just wait in the bathroom and call for a towel like a normal person?

Aubrey tells her so when Stacie, naked and dripping, has stumbled her way into Aubrey's room. She replies something along the lines of not letting a perfect view go to waste, and Aubrey immediately feels her cheeks heat up. Objectively speaking, Stacie has quite...desirable assets, and Aubrey will be a fool if she doesn't admit that. A fool she is not (she thinks she happens to be adequately reasonable) so she scrambles across the room and hands Stacie a turquoise towel.

Stacie makes a show of drying her hair first, tossing it like she's in a bad shampoo commercial (which is frankly annoying because she's getting water everywhere). Aubrey watches Stacie from the corner of her peripheral vision for at least two minutes until those boobs are finally covered up. At last, Stacie crosses her arms across her chest.

And then she just stands there. 

"What?" says Aubrey, squinting at Stacie and unable to decipher whatever is going on in that mind of hers.

This freshman—this strange, uncouth freshman—barks out a laugh, and then three more, as if she finds the whole situation funny.

It isn't. (Unless Aubrey has lotion on her face—well, it still wouldn't be funny.)

Stacie stops giggling in lieu of a wide, loopy grin. "I, uh, don't have anything to wear, " she says, "if you haven't noticed. Well, you probably did. Anyway, I would really love it if I could borrow something to sleep in, unless you want me to smell like beer all night."

Oh.

"Of course," Aubrey mumbles, turning on her heel. She digs through her drawers until she finds an old Barden shirt that she bought as an overeager freshman and never ended up wearing. In another drawer she fishes out a pair of her workout shorts. "Here," she says, shoving the clothing into Stacie's chest. "Change in the bathroom. I don't need to see those again."

Stacie visibly pouts. "What about underwear?"

Aubrey sucks in a sharp breath. "Wear your own," she replies, and she all but hurls Stacie out of the room.

***

When Stacie comes back into Aubrey's room, she is fully clothed (thank aca-goodness). Well, as fully clothed as Stacie can get. Aubrey's Barden shirt is a little short on her, so Stacie's lower stomach area is visible when she reaches up to untangle the turquoise towel from her wet hair.

Aubrey swallows a twinge of something unnameable.

With an increasingly alarming off-kilter grin, Stacie inches uncomfortably close to Aubrey's personal space. Aubrey is surprised that she even remembers the concept of a personal space after having a best friend like Chloe for over three years, but when Stacie approaches her side, it's all she can think about.

Stacie gives her the towel. They are so close that Aubrey can see Stacie's dilated pupils. Stacie's hair is still damp; a few tendrils are plastered to her forehead. Aubrey smells the lingering alcohol on Stacie's breath as she exhales.

"You know," Stacie rasps, "I was looking for some action tonight. It's been kind of disappointing so far, 'cause a girl can only get so horny, right? And look, cap, I've seen you staring. So what do you say we help each other out?"

Aubrey blinks. She clenches her fist (she clenches her entire body), and she wonders how Stacie never loses that cheeky smile even as she so obviously hits on her. And then Aubrey realizes really how drunk Stacie is.

Aca-Jesus, this is worse than the time that kid named Max asked Aubrey to the eighth-grade dance. She's pretty sure that Max only owned two shirts and never washed his face. Aubrey would have rather licked the floor than gone to the dance with him, and that's saying a lot.

Aubrey tries to extract herself from Stacie's intense gaze; if she would just take a step to the side, she'd be just fine. Except Stacie's somehow turned them both around, and Aubrey feels her bedroom door against her back. Stacie smells like Aubrey's green apple shampoo, which is a million times more distracting than it should be.

Then, well. Everything goes totally crazy from there.

Aubrey doesn't know what she did to deserve this. She listens to her parents, she does her homework, and (most importantly) she never mixes with the wrong people. Aubrey makes it a priority to surround herself only with friends who would be the most beneficial—and she doesn't mean that in a selfish, ulterior-motive way. She's friends with people like Chloe because people like Chloe genuinely make Aubrey a better person. And although Aubrey has had her heart broken more times than she cares to admit, she knows that only she gets to decide who deserves her attention.

Which is why she is so, so completely overwhelmed as Stacie kisses her that she just lets it happen.

Simply put, as her father would tell her, she has lost control of the situation. The proper course of action in this case is to calmly handle whatever problem there is until everything is under control again. But for some reason, Aubrey can't bring herself to push Stacie away. Her arms aren't responding to the screaming messages from her brain, like in that movie where the guy gets possessed by little people who control him like a robot.

When Stacie finally breaks away, her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are wide. Aubrey's mouth tastes like stale beer, and she blankly reaches up to touch her own lips.

"I'll sleep on the couch," Stacie says quickly. She smiles that same eccentric smile, but it's a little off. Aubrey nods. She opens the door and says nothing.

After Stacie leaves, Aubrey shuts the door quietly and pads over to her bed. She sits down, back ramrod-straight, and pinches the bridge of her nose.

She is most definitely, surely, certainly not freaking out.

(Aubrey Posen doesn't freak out.)


	3. Chapter 3

Aubrey Posen has kissed girls before.

Correction: Aubrey Posen has kissed a girl before. When she told Chloe, her friend had reacted like Aubrey had said that she'd never seen  _Clueless_. Really, Aubrey doesn't know what's so shocking about this information. It's not as if she radiates this completely celibate aura. Just because she likes to pick and choose doesn't mean she's a nun. (Actually, that would be an inaccurate comparison. Aubrey went to a Catholic elementary school. A lot of the nuns were quite laid-back.)

Anyway, kissing a girl hadn't been such a big deal. It was the summer before tenth grade. Aubrey went on a field trip to Disney World with her school choir. Two of the girls she shared a hotel room with thought it would be funny to dare Aubrey to kiss Julia, their other quiet roommate finishing her nighttime routine. The thought made Aubrey slightly uncomfortable, but she couldn't and wouldn't deny her uber-competitiveness; thus, she placed a big smooch on Julia's lips as soon as she walked out of the bathroom. Aubrey felt bad about it afterwards, so she made the other two girls delete the picture they took, and that was the end of it.

Kissing Stacie felt nothing like that.

Aubrey swears she doesn't think about it for the rest of the night. She has better things to occupy her mind—Regionals, for example—and she certainly does not lie awake in her bed replaying the moment over and over until Chloe comes home at 12:14 A.M. and screams at the top of her lungs.

About that.

Aubrey already has her lights on by the time Chloe clambers into her room. Chloe's face is entirely pink, and her messy bun is falling apart. "Bree," she pants, "what the aca-eff is Stacie doing on the couch?"

"Look," says Aubrey. She explains the situation as calmly as possible (minus the part where Stacie totally came on to her without her consent, of course), and she's pretty sure Chloe's just going to leave it at that until her friend squints at her.

"It's not that I don't want Stacie here—I mean, I'm cool with it—but is something bothering you? Anything you want to tell me?"

Aubrey opens her mouth and closes it. "No," she says. Then, "How was your date with Tom?"

Chloe beams.

***

In the morning, Stacie stumbles into the kitchen, clearly hungover but still looking like she walked straight out of an NSFW art film. Aubrey is sitting alone at the countertop with a steaming mug of chai and a plate of whole-wheat toast. Chloe, aca-gods bless her, is still asleep. The daily pot of coffee that Aubrey makes for her is tucked into the corner of the island.

Stacie helps herself to Chloe's coffee and some toast. She plops herself down on the stool next to Aubrey, who still hasn't acknowledged her presence. Aubrey quickly finds out that although Stacie may be the Bellas' sex mascot, she eats like a complete slob. She lets bread crumbs fall onto Aubrey's Barden shirt and all over the floor.

Aubrey can't help herself. "Will using a plate physically impair you?" she snaps. She doesn't mean for it to come out so nasty, but it is what it is, and it's not exactly like she's having the greatest day.

Stacie looks at her for the first time that morning. She grins that offbeat grin again, and Aubrey realizes that Stacie probably doesn't remember a thing from last night.

Not that Aubrey cares. She doesn't, really.

***

Aubrey is serious this time when she says that she doesn't think about the events of that strange night for the next few weeks. (Well, she was serious last time too. Totally serious.)

Between Regionals and Semis and Chloe's nodes and Beca Mitchell getting thrown into jail and Beca Mitchell potentially endangering their career and Beca Mitchell leaving the Bellas and Beca Mitchell coming back to the Bellas and Beca Mitchell potentially saving their career, Aubrey has literally zero time to be occupied by the thought of making out with one of her underclassmen. It only pops back into her mind at rehearsal the night before they leave for Finals, when Fat Amy has finally stopped tripping at that one move and Aubrey is satisfied enough to call a break. Everyone is sweaty and tired but excited to win, and Aubrey surprises even herself when she tells them that she's proud of them. 

As she's watching her team cool down, Aubrey thinks about exactly how far she's come since the puking incident last year. She had thought she would never redeem the Bellas as their captain, but here they are, ready to take on the Finals with a program to die for. She really underestimated her ragtag group of singers, especially Beca Mitchell, who still looks like a bitchy raccoon but at least uses her smiling muscles more often.

Aubrey glances at Stacie, whom she hasn't really been paying attention to, and she suddenly realizes that Stacie is wearing a strikingly familiar Barden t-shirt. Aubrey thought she would have noticed if Stacie never returned it; it's unlike herself to be overlook something like that. Plus, she's kind of disturbed that Stacie has obviously sweat all over her shirt, which rides up when Stacie stretches her arms, and  _aca-heavens_ Aubrey can see her belly-button.

Chloe bumps Aubrey in the shoulder. "Whatcha lookin' at?" she asks.

Aubrey's about to outright deny staring at Stacie's naval, but she reminds herself that it would be petty at this point in time. (And Aubrey Posen is not petty.) "Is it just me," she says, "or is Stacie's shirt too small on her?"

"Bree, all of Stacie's clothes are small on her," Chloe laughs. "What do you—oh. Wasn't she wearing that the time she crashed at our house?"

Aubrey nods.

"And didn't you buy a shirt like that a few days into freshman year?"

Aubrey nods again.

Chloe smiles tightly. "Bree, if it bothers you, you can always just ask her to give it back. I'm sure she wouldn't mind. She probably just forgot that she, you know, borrowed it."

"If I ask her now, she's going to take off her shirt," says Aubrey. "I don't think any of us are in the mood for that. Right now."

"Wait, what—"

"Alright everyone, break's over! Let's take it from the first transition into 'Give Me Everything.' Hurry up, we have some aca-asses to kick!"

 


	4. Chapter 4

They win the championship, miraculously.

Aubrey is all about celebration. But aside from the small party they have in Aubrey and Chloe's New York hotel room, she has literally no time to bask in their champion status. Aubrey is neck-deep in  her senior thesis and finals and graduation prep; she can barely breathe. She finds herself in the library more often than not with Mozart in her earbuds and a textbook next to her laptop, studying her butt off. She hasn't seen most of the other Bellas for days, and whatever free time she has is occupied by Chloe, who doesn't seem to be stressed about graduation at all.

Chloe tells her why on a Friday three weeks before they're supposed to leave Barden forever.

"I'm failing Russian Lit," she says, lounging on the couch and not at all alarmed.

Aubrey almost spits her smoothie out. "Aca-scuse me? Chloe, you  _love_ Russian Lit."

"I..." Chloe begins, then swallows. "I do, but I love the Bellas more."

Aubrey resists the urge to gasp. "Does this mean...you're not graduating?" Chloe just looks up at her from her laptop, and Aubrey knows it's true. "What about going to grad school? What about music theory and molecular biology? What about moving to New York and getting an apartment and owning a cat and three fluffy rugs?"  _What about me?_ she almost adds, but that would be petty, and Aubrey isn't petty.

Chloe shrugs, as if isn't a big deal. To hell if it isn't a big deal. 

"You're not telling me everything," says Aubrey, as calmly as possible. She plops herself onto the couch next to Chloe. "Is there another reason?"

Chloe's response comes so quietly that Aubrey almost doesn't catch it. "I broke up with Tom."

This time, Aubrey does gasp. "Oh, Chloe," she whispers, and she puts her arms around her best friend. They stay there like that for a few minutes, Aubrey holding Chloe and Chloe uncharacteristically silent, Aubrey so afraid and Chloe so in pain.

Then Chloe says, "I felt like I wasn't being fair to him," and Aubrey knows. She wants to kick herself for not seeing it sooner because she  _knows._

She apologizes over and over for not being a good best friend, for not paying attention to Chloe's troubles, for being too preoccupied with her own problems to realize the very obvious fact that her best friend is in love with Beca Mitchell. (She doesn't say the last part out loud, but she thinks they both know what's going on anyway.)

In the end, it's Beca "Brainless, Selfish Brat" Mitchell who ruins everything. Why else was Chloe so adamant about recruiting this antisocial rat to the point of climbing into the shower with her? Why else was Chloe so eager about teaching this uncoordinated troll to the point of showing her how to dance  _every move_ (and possibly intentionally pressing her boobs into that tiny back)? Why else was Chloe so crestfallen when Beca left the Bellas? Why else did Chloe defend her at every turn?

Aca-freaking damn it, the only person who hasn't realized that Chloe Beale is smitten with Beca is Beca Mitchell herself.

And then she had to go ahead and kiss that puppy-dog Treble who can't take a hint.

Aubrey wants to crush her so badly for making the mistake of breaking Chloe's heart. Chloe, Aubrey's best friend and the sister she never had, is reduced to a sobbing mess. Chloe, who only sees the good in everyone and never hesitates to fully support those she loves, is broken over a stupid girl who frankly doesn't even deserve her.

Aubrey Posen has never hated another person more. (That's saying something; she can't  _stand_ Chris Brown.)

She might also feel a little (very) bitter that in the end, Chloe chooses Beca over her.

***

They watch three Nicholas Sparks movies and go through two-and-a-half cartons of Rocky Road (which Aubrey had forgotten that they owned) until Chloe falls asleep, her legs curled into her chest and her head on Aubrey's shoulder.

There's a stain on Chloe's shorts that reminds Aubrey of crumbs on a t-shirt, then of open mouths and green apple shampoo.

She gulps. The clock says 11:37 P.M. and Aubrey has a lot of work to do.

***

When Aubrey gets to the library at around 8 in the morning, someone is already sitting at her usual table. 

It's Stacie. Her hair is in a bun and she's wearing a pair of large, circular glasses that make her look twenty times more sophisticated.

Aubrey is only a little surprised.

"Is this seat taken?" she asks, pointing at the seat across the table. Stacie looks up and grins her signature grin. Without the drunken influence or hungover haze, Aubrey thinks that it looks kind of goofy.

"Nope," says Stacie, popping the "p." She goes back to work immediately, scribbling something in her notebook and glancing at her textbook in between. 

As Aubrey settles down, she feels the need to say something. "So...what are you working on?"

"Organic Chem II," Stacie answers easily, not at all distracted.

"The one with Haverford? It's tough, isn't it?"

Stacie shakes her head without taking her eyes off of her notes. "Not really. It's just a lot of memorization, and it's alright once you understand the concepts."

Aubrey blinks. If she remembers clearly, she had a super hard time with Haverford's Organic Chemistry class. Then again, Aubrey was never a science person, and she supposes Stacie is. She also supposes she underestimated Stacie, who's studying at the library on a Saturday morning instead of sleeping off a hangover. 

When Aubrey asks her why, Stacie sits back in her chair and takes off her glasses. "Aubrey, why are you talking to me?" she challenges.

Aubrey is almost offended. "You have my shirt," she grumbles, looking for a way out. "You never returned it."

"Ah, you mean the one I borrowed on the night I kissed you."

"You—" Aubrey's face heats up. So what if she remembers? That doesn't mean anything. Deep breaths, Posen. "I'd appreciate it if you returned it."

Stacie leans forward, her breasts becoming impossibly larger. "Or else what?" she smirks. "I don't think you need it if it took you that long to notice it was gone. Besides, I think I look better in it anyway. Wouldn't you agree?"

Aubrey is acutely aware by now that Stacie is teasing her. She doesn't care. Her father always taught her to fight fire with fire, so she will. "If I do, will you give it back?" she asks.

Stacie blinks twice. "What?"

"If I agree that you look better, will you give it back?"

"I..." Stacie shifts in her seat, clearly overwhelmed. "I'll think about it."

Aubrey knows she won, and she crosses her arms, basking in her triumph. That's more like it. The world is a little better when Aubrey Posen is in control.


	5. Chapter 5

Stacie is at the same library table Sunday morning. Aubrey finds her holding a plastic spoon and a carton of something that smells vaguely like canned tomato sauce. "Ew," Aubrey says automatically. "What is that?"

"Good morning to you too, Aubrey."

"No, seriously." Aubrey glances at the spread of Stacie's notes, which have taken over half of the table. Their subjects range from thermodynamics to digital logic design to marketing management to Arabic? So maybe Aubrey underestimated Stacie a  _lot._

She still makes Stacie take her breakfast outside because a) no food in the library, duh, and b) there's already a questionable orange stain on one of the sheets of notebook paper. Really, Aubrey is doing a  _huge_ favor for Stacie, and she doesn't hesitate to tell her so once they're on a bench overlooking the quad.

Stacie just hums and shovels another gooey glob into her mouth. "Why are you sitting outside with me again?"

Aubrey opens her mouth. Okay, she has a good point. "I...was just wondering what horrendous processed thing you were eating."

"You've never heard of canned pasta?" Stacie hisses, as if it were something scandalous. 

When Aubrey was ten, she saw like forty commercials for a brand of canned pasta on Disney Channel or something during her allotted thirty minutes of TV per day. One day at the grocery store when her mother wasn't looking, Aubrey snuck a can over to the cashier out of curiosity and paid for it quietly with her own allowance money. She opened it secretly in her room with the can opener she borrowed from the kitchen, and it was the second-worst thing she had ever put into her mouth. (The worst thing—actually, Aubrey would rather not talk about that.) Aubrey has since never, ever eaten something out of a can.

"No," she lies. "They don't sell it at 7 Eleven, do they?"

Stacie shakes her head. "My mom sends me these in her care packages. She knows I tend to skip breakfast around finals, and she'd honestly rather have me eat shitty pasta than, you know, air."

Care packages. Aubrey hadn't even considered the thought. If her own parents sent her care packages, Aubrey would probably phone home and ask if someone was dying.

"Are you eating that cold?" Aubrey asks instead, because Stacie is  _totally_ eating it cold.

As Stacie laughs, loud and open and completely disgusting, a trickle of sauce dribbles out of her mouth. Aubrey has the urge to take out wad of tissues from her bag and wipe it off of Stacie's chin, so she laces her fingers together to keep them still.

***

Aubrey begins packing that night. She takes down her  _Mama Mia_ poster and the pictures of herself and her family and Chloe off her bedroom walls. She folds all of her thick sweaters and tucks them into her red suitcase. She untangles all the fairy lights Chloe had helped her hang up the day they moved in sophomore year.

Around 9:30, Chloe leans against the frame of Aubrey's door and watches her pack. "I'll miss you," she whispers.

 _I'll miss you too,_  Aubrey almost says. Instead, she gives Chloe a disappointed look.

She's not really over it, yet.

***

Aubrey finds Stacie at the library again on Monday morning. This time, she's picking at a blueberry muffin from the cafeteria, like she actually had time to consider buying breakfast. Aubrey still makes her finish it outside.

"Don't you have morning classes?" Aubrey asks, unconsciously dusting Stacie's crumbs off the bench.

"Not today. Don't you?"

Aubrey shakes her head. "Why'd you start coming to the library recently then? Weren't you studying somewhere else?"

Stacie scoffs. "Yeah, I  _was_ , until Beca basically raided my dorm room because apparently she's hiding from Jesse. She's been camping there for the past, like, three days, moping around and being all emo and stuff. She's so moody that it's hard to be in the same room without cringing. It's a good thing my roommate practically lives with her boyfriend because—"

"Wait, why would Beca be hiding from Jesse?"

"I don't know. They broke up or something and he keeps knocking on her door. That's all she would tell me."

Aubrey smiles. "Perfect."

"What?"

Aubrey Posen loves a good plan.


	6. Chapter 6

"A party?"

"Yeah," says Aubrey, "it'll totally be fun. Or at least, you know, in good spirit. It'll be the last time this year's Bellas get together and all."

"Bree, you hate parties."

Aubrey winces, which she hopes Chloe doesn't see. Yeah, she can't argue with that one. "Well, not like an  _actual_ party," she tries, tapping her nails against the countertop and pretending like she's completely chill about this. (Which she is.) "Just, like, a gathering. For Bellas only. In this house."

Chloe finally finds the cup she was looking for on the second shelf of the fourth cabinet. She fills it up with juice and hands it to Aubrey. "You know it's a no-brainer for me," she says. "I'm okay with it as long as you're okay with it."

"Well, duh. I want this to happen." Aubrey takes a few seconds to sip on her juice and gauge her friend's reaction. "I kind of expected you to be more excited."

"Of course I'm excited! We're gonna have so much fun planning it—it's gonna be aca-awesome!" Chloe squeals, but it feels forced, and it's not really Chloe. Chloe hasn't really been Chloe for the past week or so.

Aubrey knows it's stupid, but she crosses her fingers under the table and hopes for the best.

***

Despite Aubrey's reservations, they really do have fun planning the party. Chloe hangs up Christmas lights all around the living room. Aubrey digs out these giant pastel-colored plastic bowls they forgot they had, and they fill those with family-sized bags of chips and pretzels from the convenience store. Chloe hooks some kind of speaker system up that Aubrey doesn't dare touch. Aubrey goes through thick and thin to procure ten packages of napkins and plates with the Barden logo from the bookstore. And of course, they have drinks.

It might go very well—"well," meaning exactly how Aubrey wants it.

***

It doesn't.

Stacie texts them in the group chat to let them know that she and Beca will be half an hour late (presumably because Stacie is dragging Beca out of her literal and metaphorical shithole of misery and loathing). By the time they show up, Lilly has already set the fire alarm off twice and Fat Amy has somehow knocked over the punch bowl. Aubrey opens the door with a grimace and a baby migraine, and she reminds herself how much she  _does_ hate parties.

"Don't even try to pretend that I'm not just here for the drinks," says Beca, who pushes past Aubrey like a total aca-grouch, but at least she smells like deodorant.

Stacie, on the other hand—well, Aubrey can never guess what Stacie is going for. She has that silly smile of hers plastered onto her face, and she thrusts a squishy package into Aubrey's hands. "Your shirt," she says nonchalantly. "Don't worry, I washed it." 

Aubrey stares at the package while Stacie wanders inside. It's bundled in Christmas-themed wrapping paper with little dancing cartoon Santas. Aubrey doesn't know whether she wants to laugh or throw up.

She does throw up, later.

Aubrey and Chloe are having an argument. She doesn't remember how it begins (probably stupidly, like the way the bowls are arranged or where the rest of the beer has disappeared), but it escalates into something huge, and soon they're screaming at each other. They say some nasty things, and it becomes an argument about Aubrey's petty but entirely justified feelings about Chloe's betrayal. Aubrey yells something along the lines of promising they'd be in this together, and Chloe yells something back about families and choices, and then Aubrey yells something about Chloe choosing these Bellas (whom she's only known for a year) over Aubrey (whom she's known for four), and Chloe yells back about passion and duty, and Aubrey yells, "You just don't want to admit that you're only staying because you're in love with Beca Mitchell," and then—

Silence.

The rest of the Bellas watch their captains without a sound. Aubrey feels a distinct sense of deja vu: Chloe once confronted her about the Bellas' set list and ended up fighting for the pitch pipe in a puddle of Aubrey's puke.

This time, Aubrey makes it to the bathroom.

She stays there for around ten minutes, retching into the porcelain bowl and utterly ashamed of herself. Aubrey understands how irrationally she can behave in a fight, but spilling Chloe's secret to all of the Bellas is a new low, even for her. 

When Aubrey was seven, a boy named Wade had pulled on her hair in math class. Aubrey didn't know how to get him to stop, so she complained to her father one night because her father was a big, muscular ex-military man who seemed to know how to deal with mean boys like Wade. Her father, true to his style, told her never to let them see her weaknesses, to never let them have the satisfaction of seeing her crack. Aubrey didn't know if she understood, but she tattled on Wade the next day and was never bothered again.

But Aubrey isn't that terrified seven-year-old girl anymore, and Chloe isn't some stupid little boy named Wade.  _Screw weaknesses_ , she thinks, remembering what her father had said. Chloe is Aubrey's weakness. The Bellas are Aubrey's weakness.

Someone knocks on the bathroom door. At first, Aubrey thinks it's Chloe, but Stacie opens the unlocked door and lets herself in. "Hey," is all Stacie says, and she sits down on the tiled floor next to Aubrey.

Aubrey wonders how messy she must look, her hair plastered to her face and her breath reeking of vomit. "I did something terrible, didn't I?" she finally muses.

Stacie shrugs. "Sure. It was brutal. It was scandalous. _But_  it didn't have completely catastrophic results. I mean, Chloe and Beca are having a 'talk' right now, which pretty much means they're making out somewhere in this house."

"Oh," Aubrey exhales. "That's good." She should be glad. This was what she had planned. But there's something missing, and Aubrey doesn't know what it is.

(She knows what it is.)

"We need to talk too," says Stacie, so Aubrey doesn't have to. "Look, I've been thinking about this, and...we have chemistry."

"I don't remember taking Organic Chem with you," Aubrey tries to joke. Weakly.

Stacie takes a deep breath, then another. "Aubrey, I'm serious. I like you—I like you a lot. I think we would make the ultimate power couple and have impossibly beautiful babies together. Okay, maybe I'm not thinking  _that_ far ahead, but 'power couple' is a great place to start."

Aubrey gazes at the small white tiles beneath her legs. "I'm graduating in a week," she whispers.

"Long-distance."

"I get unreasonably jealous."

"Monogamy."

"I'm high-maintenance and controlling and I puke when I get upset."

"Aubrey," Stacie sighs, "I still like you. Hell, I like you  _because_ of that. Trust me, I don't get scared off so easily."

They make eye contact, and Aubrey sees Stacie's wide, goofy smile, ready to love and ready to learn.

In the end, the decision's not so hard.

***

When they return to the living room, they find Beca lying horizontally on the couch with her head on Chloe's lap. They're completely absorbed in each other.

"We're not gonna tell them, are we?" asks Stacie.

Aubrey shakes her head. "They've had enough excitement for today." She stretches herself and offhandedly adds, "By the way, you can keep the Barden shirt. I already packed most of my clothes, and you were right: it looks better on you anyway."

***

Aubrey Posen wasn't born into this world kicking and screaming; she cried once in the hospital room, and that was it. She was taught by a hardened father never to show her flaws on her face. She was taught by pasta commercials never to disregard her parents' rule. She was taught by a dance proposal that boys who only owned two shirts did not deserve her attention. She was taught by girls on a choir trip that kisses were dares to compete for, pictures to take. She was taught by a boy who smelled like a locker room that nobody wanted to date a controlling neurotic who drove herself crazy. She was taught by a girl with a giddy smile that it's okay to let go once in a while, to let loose and love. This is Aubrey Posen.

And Aubrey Posen is an aca-force to be reckoned with, damn it.

***

Aubrey's graduation ceremony is a lot of screaming (Chloe) and hugs (also Chloe) and strange threats (Lilly) and tears (surprisingly Beca). Before Aubrey has a chance to slip away and meet her parents, Stacie just announces it: "I've made the decision to be monogamous."

It takes them all a moment. Then Fat Amy laughs. "Honey, I don't think you know what that means."

Stacie puts on a mock offended expression. She doesn't try to explain it further, but she does catch Aubrey's eye and wink.

And maybe Aubrey smiles. Just a little.


End file.
